Misguided Ghosts
by tsay cresant
Summary: Blaine was use to seeing spirits by now. He'd seen them all his life. But now why does this one want him to help seek justice? Rated M for violence in Chapter 1. Other than that, very T material. Violence is marked and can be skipped.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Just an idea I'd like to try. It'd take place right after Never Been Kissed, only you'll have to pretend that Blaine didn't meet Kurt during that episode, but Kurt did go to spy on Dalton. I hope you guys like it. : )**

Blaine was use to his strange abilities. He had to be in order to cope with his environment. Always seeing some sort of person around would normally be strange to people, but not Blaine. He took it in stride when he was little, playing with old Civil War Veterans on the swings in his back yard and enjoying the company of dogs long dead. At first his parents thought he was mentally ill, that he was hallucinating, until they researched the people he would tell them about in great detail at dinner. A woman who'd died in a car accident 20 years ago on their street. A little boy who died of typhoid in their area back ages ago. They kept Blaine company throughout his childhood, being companions when others couldn't. As a teenager, Blaine didn't talk to the different spirits he saw as much as he use to. Only ones that looked particularly interesting.

Dalton Academy was full of spirits, it being an old building. All of the spirits were usually dressed in Dalton uniforms, looking the same age as Blaine is which means he would always make a complete fool of himself while he walked around them, dodging them in case they were real people. No one at Dalton really knew about his gift. He confided in his parents that he wanted to tell Wes, but they told him not to. They said he'd lose his friends if he told them. So, he kept his lips sealed.

The strangest part of his gift was meeting old dead relatives. Grandparents that had died before his time. Great grandparents. Great great grandparents. Etcetera. They'd sit around and tell him stories when he wasn't busy, making him write them down so their legacy wouldn't be forgotten. He was constantly calling relatives he barely knew, telling them "Grandpa Robert says that he's sorry for calling you fat that one time." Or "Great Aunt Rosemary said that boy is cheating on you and that you need to break up with him." It was certainly interesting, the gossip spirits knew.

This day started out not much different. Blaine rolled out of bed, getting dressed for another day at Dalton. The weekend had just ended, so he was home. He normally didn't like being home, but there was one thing that always made it worth it. His mother's cooking. He could smell the aroma of homemade pancakes with applesauce mixed into the batter wafting through the house. He practically floated downstairs to his breakfast.

Instantly, the calm smell disappeared when he sensed the worry around his mother. Beatrice Anderson, with her always tightly pulled back hair and doe eyes, was cooking pancakes, but looked like she was somewhere else. Her dainty hand gripped the spatula, waiting to flip, but her mind wandered to other thoughts.

"Mom, are you ok?" Blaine asked, breaking her trance. She rubbed a tear from her eye before it could leave it.

"Look at the news," she said, swallowing hard. Blaine grabbed the newspaper off the table, remembering how he always made fun of his mom for buying one since you could usually find the same news online. He held the newspaper close, having trouble reading it since he hadn't put his contacts in, but was able to make it out.

* * *

><p><strong>Teen Found Dead.<strong>

Lima, Ohio: A body was discovered this morning around 5 a.m. by a police officer out on patrol. The remains had appeared to be burned and were barely even recognizable as human remains until after further testing. The body was identified as 17 year old Kurt Hummel. We spoke with the principal of the school Hummel had attended, Mr. Figgins, and found that Mr. Hummel had come to his office earlier, expressing his fear for his life after a student at the school threatened him. While police cannot completely link that teen to this incident, he is being considered as a suspect. Burt Hummel, Kurt Hummel's father, shared with us that he believes that "this was a hateful crime and whoever could do this to someone like Kurt should be given the death penalty". Calling hours for Kurt Hummel will be held this Saturday from 10 a.m.- 7 p.m. The funeral will proceed the following day. Kurt Hummel left behind his father, his step brother, his step mother, and the McKinley New Directions, who he considered family while he was still living. "We will all miss Kurt's presence at practice. He was truly a talented and wonderful person," William Shuester, the director of New Directions commented. Until there is more evidence, this murder will remain a mystery. The police are confident that they will find the murderer and that there will be justice.

* * *

><p>Blaine stared at the paper. This boy, he was the same age as him, and he was murdered, maybe even burned to death. He looked over at his mom.<p>

"That's terrible," he said, putting the paper down.

"On the news, they said that they believe the person who killed him did it because of his sexuality. He'd been getting death threats," Mrs. Anderson said quietly. "You'd tell me if something like that was happening to you, right?"

"Of course I would Mom," I said comfortingly, walking over to her and giving her a side hug. "Your pancake is burning." She choked out a small laugh and flipped the pancake with one hand and wrapped her other arm around my waist.

"I just don't want to lose my baby to ignorant people. That poor family. That was the father's only son too, minus his step son," she said, letting go of Blaine and handing him a plate with a few pancakes on it. "I couldn't imagine what that'd be like. Especially since it sounds like the poor boy had been burned alive, at only seventeen."

"I know," Blaine said, pouring way too much syrup on his pancakes. "It's crazy." Mrs. Anderson pulled herself together and started scrubbing the dishes, cleaning up from breakfast. Blaine could tell she was still thinking about that boy. Blaine was too. He recognized the name… He couldn't put his finger on it though. He opened the paper and flipped to the obituaries, to see if they already put his in. Sure enough, there it was.

* * *

><p><strong>Kurtis Cedric Hummel. February 16, 1994- October 11, 2011.<strong>

Kurt Hummel was a bright student who attended William McKinley High School. He passed away from unnatural causes, to which no one knows the details. He left behind his father, Burt Hummel, his step mother, Carole Hudson-Hummel, and his step brother, Finn Hudson. He has moved on to join his mother, Maggie Hummel. His friends at William McKinley will also miss him very much.

Kurt was always a very confident person. His magnetic personality brought him many friends through his days. He's remembered for his love of musicals, fashion, singing, and knowledge. He'd hoped to become either an actor or a fashion designer after his education. Calling hours for Kurt Hummel will be held this Saturday from 10 a.m.- 7 p.m. The funeral will proceed the following day. The New Directions will perform at the ceremony, as Kurt would have wanted them to. Kurt Hummel will be sorely missed by all of the people his life had touched.

* * *

><p>Blaine stared at the picture, now recognizing him. He'd been at the Warblers performance of Teenage Dream. Wes told Blaine later that he'd been there to spy on them. Blaine didn't really get to talk to the boy, but he'd heard that he'd been very nice for being a spy. The picture in the paper was of Kurt and who Blaine assumed was his father. His father had a strong arm around his son, and Kurt was leaning into his dad, grinning wide. Yes, that was definitely the boy.<p>

"Honey, you're going to be late for school," Mrs. Anderson said worriedly. She hoped that this wasn't going to affect Blaine too much. The death of any teenager affects all of the ones around them. It makes other teenagers realize that they aren't invincible. They can actually die.

"Oh, right. Thanks for breakfast," Blaine said, tossing his plate into the sink and running out the door, his keys jingling in his pocket. He got into his red mustang and started zooming towards Dalton. No matter what, he was going to be late. But he could try to be a little less late.

His plans on being less late were shattered as he continued his drive. Once he saw the scared spirit of Kurt Hummel standing on the side of the road, he knew he couldn't leave him. Young people never understand that they're dead, at least not right away. Blaine pulled over in front of him and rolled down his window.

"Get in."


	2. Chapter 1

** Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for the reviews/alerts! I wasn't expecting that. I'm also glad not too many people were upset that Kurt is dead. That was hard to write but necessary for the story. Enjoy : )**

**WARNING!: This chapter describes an pretty horrid death! Since it is horrid, I will mark where it starts and where it ends, for people who want to skip it. **

"Get in," I said to Kurt, who was holding himself, his arms wrapped around his midsection, and standing on the side of the road. He stared at me.

"Who are you?" he asked, offended by me being blunt.

"Kurt, listen, I don't really have time to explain everything. Can you please get in the car so I can get to school? I'll explain on the way," Blaine said patiently. Kurt stood there, considering the pros and cons, and hopped into the car. Blaine almost laughed when Kurt buckled his seat belt, but realized that he definitely didn't know he was dead.

"So, who are you? You're from the Warblers, right?" Kurt asked, looking at the blue blazer.

"Yea, I'm Blaine. I didn't get to personally meet you before, but I was the one who sang lead in Teenage Dream," Blaine said, now focusing on the road.

"Oh, ok. I know who you are now. So, why did you ask me to get in your car?" Kurt asked. "I haven't been missing very long have I?"

"Missing?" Blaine asked.

"Yea, I went out last night to pick up some coffee since I had a major project to finish and I ran into some people… Bottom line, it wasn't good. I think they knocked me unconscious at one point though, because I had the craziest, scariest dream ever," Kurt confided, almost instantly trusting Blaine. "Oh no! I bet my dad is worried sick!"

"Kurt," Blaine started, pulling into a convenience store. "Um, I think I have to show you something. Wait here." Blaine got out of the car and walked into the convienience store. He came back a few minutes later with a newspaper and handed it to Kurt. Blaine watched as Kurt's eyes immediately gravitated to the headline about the dead teen. They moved back and forth reading the article faster and faster and faster, until he set it in his lap. Kurt had been a pale person in life and spirits are normally paler than people, but right now, he looked even paler than that.

"So, I'm dead?" Kurt asked. Blaine nodded at him sympathetically. "Then why can you see me?"

"I've been able to see spirits all of my life. It's a gift of sorts," Blaine said, pulling out of the store's parking lot and continuing to Dalton. "Listen, Kurt, I'm really sorry about what happened to you."

"I just can't believe that actually happened," Kurt said, staring at dashboard of the mustang.

"I hate to ask, but what happened exactly? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Blaine asked, adding on the last part hurriedly to be polite.

"Like I said, it started with a coffee run," Kurt started, sitting up straight.

**AN: Horrid death begins.**

Kurt Hummel was a coffee deviant. He considered the hot beverage to be the answer to all problems. Bad day? Drink some coffee. Another death threat? More coffee. An unwanted kiss? An entire pot of coffee. Major French project. Lots and lots of coffee. That was the case this time. He had a huge French project due tomorrow and he hadn't even started it yet. He was going to need coffee for an all nighter.

He turned off his car and walked into Panera Bread, counting the money in his pocket to make sure he had enough to get a carmel latte. Once he was in Panera, he waited in line behind a few kids from school. He must not be the only one doing the French project. Before he could get up to get his coffee, someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. It was a girl he recognized from school, but didn't really know. She had short blonde hair that looked damaged from being straightened so many times.

"Hi, um, Kurt?" she asked.

"Hi," he said with a chipper squeak before turning around again. She tapped his shoulder again.

"You're in my French class, right?" she asked. He nodded. "Well, could you come over and help me with my project? We can do them together."

"Uh, sure," Kurt said, not wanting to turn her down. She grabbed his hand and smiled.

"Thanks, my car's over here," she said, practically dragging him out.

"But what about coffee? And my car is here too," Kurt said, seeing things wrong with this picture already.

"I'll make a pot when we get to my house. And I'll have my dad come and get your car," she said, pulling him along to her minivan. He stopped dragging his feet and followed her after she gave him an explanation, even if it wasn't a very good one. "I have junk on the passenger seat, so can you sit in the back?"

"Uh, sure," Kurt said, getting into the back of the car. As soon as she'd pulled out of Panera, Kurt could tell something wasn't right. They were going away from Lima, not into it. "Where are we going?"

As Kurt asked that, he realized that he wasn't the only person in the car. He turned around and saw three other people, all dressed in black, sitting quietly in the back row of the van. Now Kurt was even more confused. He knew this wasn't going to be good, but why'd they pick him? He didn't get much more time to ponder that, because the girl driving pulled over to an area near the woods and got out of the car. Kurt just sat there, holding his midsection, filled with worry.

Then, in a flash, the sliding door next to him was opened, and one of the still bodies who'd been sitting behind him shot up and shoved Kurt out of the car. Kurt fell into the ditch on the side of the road, thankfully on his back and not his head. Then everything became jumbled together. He knew feet were meeting his ribs. He could feel that. He knew someone had brought a baseball bat and busted his knee in with it. He definitely felt that. But once he got one crack in the head, he was out cold.

He woke up a little deeper into the woods, but not by much. He could still see the highway from where he was, but it was late at night and completely bare. The tree that he was tied to made the skin on the back of his neck itch, but he couldn't scratch it because, well, he was tied to a tree. The four people were sitting on the ground, playing cards, like they'd been waiting for him to wake up. There was the blonde girl, a boy who looked older than her, but not by much, maybe in his early twenties. He had brown hair that had been buzzed short and a strong jaw. Then there was an older man, probably around Kurt's dad's age, with red hair and a beard, and a really old man with a cane.

Kurt was immediately dragged away from the details of his kidnappers by the pain he felt all over. He could feel both of his eyes swelling shut from being beaten. Blood dripped down his forehead still, making a trail down his nose and to his lips, where he could taste the iron. His arms and legs were most definitely broken. The pain he felt in them was unbearable. He winced as he tried to move his arm, which alerted the group on the ground that he was awake.

"Dad, he's awake," the man with the beard said to the man with the cane. Then he nodded to the buzz cut boy, and the boy approached Kurt. Kurt flinched away, not sure what was going to happen next, but closed his eyes. The boy picked up a metal can of gasoline and started splashing Kurt with it. The smell burned Kurt's nose and gave him an even worse headache.

"Stop it," Kurt finally yelled, which made the boy hesitate.

"Keep going. That fag needs to feel the flames which he'll be living in for eternity," the man with the cane said. As soon as Kurt was completely covered in gasoline, the four started walking away, as far away from Kurt as they could stand but still get a proper view.

"Come back! Please, don't do this. Just let me go," Kurt yelled. He didn't want to die. He had to be dreaming. Yes, this had to be a dream. The old man lit a match and threw it from where he was standing into the gasoline that had been poured at Kurt's feet, and suddenly, all Kurt felt was fire.

It felt like when you burn your knuckle while checking on something in the oven, only your entire body. There was nowhere for Kurt to run himself under water like you normally do. He just sat there and screamed. He screamed as his clothes burned off and his skin began to crisp. He could feel his blood literally boiling in his body, his organs beginning to shut down from too much heat. Too much heat. He felt his hair burn off, his scalp feeling the same biting flames as the rest of his body did. He just screamed and screamed, like that would solve anything. He couldn't make logical words, like 'help'. All he could think was 'fire, burn'.

It took maybe 10 or 15 minutes of this before Kurt was completely dead. Even after he was, the four waited until his body was completely burned up, unrecognizeable, before putting out the fire and going home.

"That's what happens when you're a faggot," the old man with the cane said to the boy and the girl.

**AN: End of horrid death.**

Blaine's skin shivered, goosebumps covering his arms and back. Kurt cringed at the memory, still feeling the burning in his skin.

"I thought I might've just dreamed it up, and that they had just beaten me up and left me in the woods. I guess I wasn't thinking about how I can walk now, when obviously I wouldn't have been able to after that," Kurt said, staring at the road.

"Was that girl the one who had been giving you death threats then?" Blaine asked, turning onto the street that Dalton is on.

"No, that was Karofsky," Kurt said slowly as he started to realize something. "Oh no. They're going to pin this on Karofsky. Blaine, I know this might be asking a bit much, but will you help me?"

"Help you with?" Blaine asked.

"You need to help me bring these people to justice. You need to help me prove Karofsky is innocent. Please," Kurt said, staring at Blaine with sad eyes. How could he say no?


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long to put this up. I wanted to figure out how I was going to have this story end first. It probably won't be super long, like 10 chapters at the very most. More like 6 or 7. So, yea, I hope you guys like it. Sorry about the last chapter being so gruesome. Also! I am thinking about writing a one shot for one of my OC characters, just for kicks and giggles. I'm going to have a poll on my page where you can vote for your favorite, if you want. :) **

"How was school?" Kurt asked, still in Blaine's car when he came back from classes. He jumped at first, but then remembered leaving Kurt and Kurt telling him specifically that he was going to wait there.

"Fine," Blaine lied. It was horrible. Everyone in the Warblers was celebrating Kurt's death because now New Directions wouldn't be able to compete, which meant less competition. It made Blaine want to puke. "So, um, what do you want me to do first exactly?"

"Well," Kurt said, leaning back in his chair. "I think that first you should talk to my dad and tell him that you see me."

"Kurt, I can't do that. My parents won't let me tell anyone," Blaine said, wishing he could actually tell people. Kurt stared at him, sad eyed. He had hoped he could say goodbye to his dad and reassure him that he wasn't burning in Hell.

"Could you tell him that you know how I died then? You don't have to say how, but just tell him what happened so he can tell the police?" Kurt asked, sitting up and staring into Blaine's eyes with his own cool blue pair. Blaine could see the desperation spilling out of those pools in Kurt's head.

"Ok, I can do that," Blaine said. Kurt grinned and put his hand on top of Blaine's. The difference between Kurt doing that in life and as a spirit is in life, when someone touches your hand, there's a warm feeling, but in death it feels cold, like cold water in a rubber glove.

"This really means the world to me Blaine," Kurt started. "Thank you so much for doing this. I mean, you don't even know me and you're going to all of this trouble."

"It's the least I can do. I have this gift so I guess I should be using it for good right?" Blaine answered.

"Like Superman? Definitely," Kurt said, sitting back comfortably in his seat and going to buckle his seatbelt, but then realizing that was stupid. "I live at 302 Oak Street."

"Ok, I think I know where that is," Blaine said, putting his car into reverse and pulling out of Dalton. The rest of the car ride was basically silent, minus Kurt saying where to turn, until they reached the Hummel/Hudson home. "Ok, here we go," Blaine said, parking his car and climbing out. Kurt followed behind him, just to make sure Blaine got the facts straight and to see his family again. Blaine rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hello?" a middle aged man sporting flannel and a baseball cap answered, holding the door open.

"Hi, um, are you Kurt's dad?" Blaine asked, not expecting Kurt's dad to look like this at all.

"Yea, did you know my son?" he asked, sounding hopeful, but sad at the same time. Blaine nodded. "Come on in kid."

Blaine walked into the small house and followed Mr. Hummel into the kitchen, where he took a seat.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Mr. Hummel asked, pulling a beer out of the refrigerator for himself. Blaine shook his head no, and Mr. Hummel took a seat across from him. "So, what brings you here Blaine?"

"I have information on Kurt's death," he said bluntly. Mr. Hummel got back up and grabbed a notepad from the counter. It had other chicken scratch notes on it, probably from other people telling him what they thought happen. He couldn't make out most of it, but he heard Kurt whispering about someone named Dave Karofsky as he read over his father's shoulder.

"What do you know?" Burt asked, the desperation way less hidden.

"He was murdered. There was a blonde girl in his French class, a guy in his twenties with a buzz cut, a man with a red beard and an old man with a cane. They burned him alive," Blaine said, saying the information slowly so Mr. Hummel could write it down. "The girl met up with him at Panera, took him with her to 'help with a French project', but instead they took him to the woods and beat him unconscious. Then they tied him to a tree and burned him to death."

He watched as Mr. Hummel, a man who looked like the American icon of a tough guy, swallowed back tears and shakily wrote the information down. Kurt was still standing behind him, giving him a hug of some sort. Of course, Mr. Hummel couldn't really feel it, other than the fact that it gave him major chills down his spine.

"What- what's your name again?" Mr. Hummel asked, saying his words slowly so he wouldn't break down. He would later, once Blaine left, but for now, he kept his strong face as well as he could.

"Blaine Anderson. B-L-A-I-N-E A-N-D-E-R-S-O-N," Blaine said slowly while Burt wrote it down.

"Thank you Blaine for your information," Burt said, putting his notepad back.

"Um, that's all I really came for, so…" Blaine said awkwardly. "I hope you guys find the killers."

"Thanks kid," Burt said, giving him a nod as a goodbye as he poured over his notes again. Kurt was reluctant to leave his house, to leave his broken dad, but he followed Blaine back to the car, and rode with him back to Blaine's house. For the first time in both of their lives, they didn't have something to say or a conversation they could start. Kurt just stared at the road, focusing on breathing although he really didn't need to. It was out of habit. Blaine just focused on the wall of his bedroom, not sure what to say.

"What do we do now?" Blaine finally asked.

"We wait I guess," Kurt said. Blaine nodded.

"I really wish I'd gotten to meet you… before all of this happened," Blaine admitted. "I remember when I saw you at the performance, I prayed that you were gay… Because I thought you were really cute."

Kurt's translucent skin turned pink on his cheeks. He sat down on Blaine's bed instead of floating around and sighed.

"I wish you hadn't said that," Kurt said, rubbing his face. "Because, I was hoping the exact same thing when I saw you… We- we could've been together."

"Yea," Blaine said. "I've never had a boyfriend before, so I wasn't sure how to go about it…"

"Me too," Kurt said, putting his hand back on Blaine's. "I wonder what it'd be like… I guess that's one thing I'll regret. I mean, I died a freaking virgin."

"It happens," Blaine said, liking Kurt's cold hand on his. That left Blaine wondering though. He'd never really tried to make physical contact with spirits. He knew from experience that they could go through things but they could also be solid too… Could ghosts kiss or do things like that... "Well, we'll catch whoever did that to you."

"Yea," Kurt mumbled. "Is it sad that the only kiss I ever had that counted was forced by Dave Karofsky?"

"Isn't that the kid they're blaming?" Blaine asked, ears perking.

"Yea, he told me if I told anyone that he'd kill me," Kurt said. "That was a bad idea."

"A little bit," Blaine replied.

"I just wish I'd actually had a good, real kiss before dying," Kurt said, dropping hint after freaking hint. Blaine got it.

"I don't know how that'd work," Blaine said. "I mean, if someone was to come in here, it'd look like I was kissing no one."

"But no one's home… Please Blaine?" Kurt begged, putting both his hands on top of Blaine's. "It'd mean the world to me."

"I don't even know if it'd work," Blaine said, watching Kurt.

"Can we try?" Kurt asked.

"But if it doesn't work, you'll be disappointed," Blaine argued. Kurt gave him a look.

"You just don't want to kiss me, right?" Kurt asked, his tone sounding more irritated than upset.

"No, I do. I'm just kinda freaked out by the idea," Blaine said.

"Well, let's just go really slow then… I heard if you close your eyes, it's less scary," Kurt said, putting his arms around Blaine's neck.

"Ok, but as soon as I hear someone come through our front entrance, even if we've kissed or not, we aren't doing anything," Blaine said. Kurt nodded in agreement, and they both started taking long calming breaths.

"Ok, really?" Kurt asked. Blaine nodded. They both closed their eyes and started leaning forward. Blaine was worried that he'd go straight through Kurt and smack his head on his footboard. Kurt was more concerned that Blaine's teeth might not be clean to Kurt's standards. Then, they felt it. Blaine felt cold clammy lips against his. It was like eating an ice cream cone.

It was just a quick peck, and then Blaine pulled away. "You're cold," Blaine said, rubbing his lips together.

"And you're not," Kurt replied back. Blaine just smiled and played with the cold hand in front of him. Ok, so Kurt might be dead, but a dead boyfriend was better than no boyfriend right?


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It'd been a month since Blaine had talked to Burt before he got the phone call. He thought that maybe they were getting closer to finding the criminals, but he received a completely different vibe from the officer.

"Hello?" Blaine answered.

"Hello, is Blaine Anderson available?" A man said.

"This is he. Can I help you?" Blaine asked, curious to who was on the other line because he didn't recognize the voice.

"This is Officer James from the Lima police department. I'm in charge of the Hummel case, and I heard that you had a lot of information on the incident," the officer said.

"That's right," Blaine said.

"Mr. Anderson, can you tell me where you were the night of the incident between the hours of nine p.m. and four a.m?" he asked.

"Wait… am I a suspect?"

"Just answer the question," the officer said sternly.

"I was at my house, sleeping," Blaine said.

"You're seventeen and you were sleeping at nine at night?" the officer asked suspiciously.

"Well, maybe, I don't remember. I might've been studying," Blaine said, truly not able to remember what he was doing before he went to bed. "Why do you think I did this? I said it was four people. A blonde girl, a guy with a red beard, a buzz cut guy, and a guy with a cane."

"Do you know exactly where this happened?" The officer asked.

"Yea, it was in the woods on the way out of Lima," Blaine answered.

"Mr. Anderson, it'd be in your best interest for you to not leave the state of Ohio for a while, until we have this case figured out," The officer said.

"But I didn't do it!" Blaine said frantically. The officer had hung up on him though.

"They think you did it?" Kurt asked, sitting on the counter of Blaine's kitchen.

"I think so," Blaine said quietly, hanging up the phone.

"Blaine? Who was on the phone?" Mrs. Anderson asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Telemarketer," Blaine lied. Mrs. Anderson nodded, giving Blaine a hug. "Uh, mom?"

"Is something wrong Blaine? You haven't been yourself recently," she said quietly, still holding her son.

"I'm ok mom," he said reassuringly.

"You haven't been hanging out with your friends very much. How about you call Wes and David and have them sleep over tonight?" she suggested hopefully. Blaine shrugged, still in her hug. "You just must be so lonely Baby. Your friends all have girlfriends and you're the odd man out. I wish that things were better for you here, but at least it's less dangerous for you at Dalton. Maybe if that poor Hummel boy had gone to Dalton, he might still be here."

"Yea," Blaine said, waiting for his mom to let go of him

"Just remember Blaine, you can always talk to me," she said, running her fingers quickly through his hair before letting go of him.

"I know mom," Blaine said, giving her a small smile. "Actually mom, I think I'm going to go get some coffee from Panera. Is that ok?"

"Yea, just be careful," she said. Blaine grabbed his keys off the key hook and walked out to his car, holding the passenger door open for Kurt. Kurt could go through it, but he didn't like doing that. It made him feel weird.

"Now, which Panera did you go to?" Blaine asked Kurt.

"The one on Main Street," Kurt answered, resting his hand on Blaine's knee. Blaine drove to that Panera and walked inside, Kurt following behind him. "What are we doing here?"

"I just wanted to retrace your steps," Blaine said, holding the door open for Kurt while they walked in.

"I'm assuming I can't drink coffee when I'm dead," Kurt mumbled. Blaine nodded.

"Yea, probably not."

The barista stared at Blaine, who looked like he was talking to himself. "Uh, can I help you?"

"Yea, can I have a caramel latte to go please?" Blaine asked, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and paying the woman. In a few minutes, he had his coffee and they were off to the next place. "Now, where am I going?"

"Keep straight. I'll tell you where to pull over," Kurt said, taking Blaine's coffee and trying to drink it. That only ended with him getting coffee on Blaine's leather seats. "Sorry."

"I figured you'd try that," Blaine said, pulling napkins out of his jacket pocket and handing them to Kurt.

"Well, coffee was one of my favorite things. It'd be sweet if I could still drink it," Kurt mumbled, inhaling the smell of coffee instead. "I love caramel lattes. Oh! Stop!"

Blaine smashed on the brake and then pulled over. "This is the spot?"

"Yea," Kurt said, getting out through the driver's door. "That's the ditch they pushed me into," Kurt pointed to the ditch that they pulled over next to. "And, back there is where I died."

"Do you want to go check it out?" Blaine asked. Kurt shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. They both walked into the woods, looking around at the trees until they found the spot. The tree Kurt had been tied to wasn't burned down, just charred. The ground around it was completely black with ash, probably from Kurt's clothes, hair, or flesh. Kurt cringed and sat down in front of the tree. Blaine touched the tree to feel its chalky texture, hoping to feel some kind of jolt of something from it. When he didn't, he sat down next to Kurt in the dirt. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you."

"I am too," Kurt said quietly.

"I could think of a million other people that I'd rather see dead," Blaine said, almost in a whisper. "You didn't deserve this."

"I don't think anyone would deserve that," Kurt mumbled, leaning against Blaine.

"Yea, definitely," Blaine said. "Is it weird to be back here?"

"Uh huh," Kurt squeaked. "I'm just glad it's over and I'll never have to experience it again. I'm sure they'll find the people who did it."

"Yea, they will," Blaine said. His phone started buzzing in his pocket, making him roll his eyes. He answered it. "Hello?"

"Blaine?" Mrs. Anderson was on the other line. "You need to come home right now."

"Uh, ok," Blaine said. He could tell something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what and he didn't want to ask. "I'm on my way now."

"Alright, I love you, bye," She said briskly, hanging up. Blaine stood up and dusted off his pants.

"I think I might stay here for a while," Kurt said.

"Ok. Goodbye Kurt. I'll miss you," Blaine said back.

"I'll miss you too," he said, getting up and getting closer to the tree. Blaine walked back out of the woods and got into his car, driving home. He sipped his coffee, which was now luke warm, and took his sweet time getting home. He wished he could have stayed with Kurt, because being there couldn't be easy for him, but he couldn't explain that to his mom.

Once Blaine arrived at his house, he noticed two cop cars in the driveway. The blood drained from his face while he turned his car off with a trembling hand. What could he have done now?

"Mom?" Blaine called as he walked into the house. "Why are the police here?"

"Blaine Anderson," one of the cops said. "You're under arrest for the murder of Kurt Hummel."

"What?" Blaine asked. His mother was standing to the side with his father, her face buried in her hands. "What proof do you have?"

"We have reason to believe that you committed or were an accomplice in the crime. You'll have your trial, but until then, you're coming with us," the other cop said, pulling out hand cuffs. The first cop grabbed Blaine and pulled his hands behind his back, and the second cuffed him. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in the court of law…"

Blaine couldn't believe this. He was innocent! He didn't even know Kurt when he was living. What motive would he have to kill him? He couldn't think right now. All he could think about was how the cuffs were hurting his wrists, how the officers were being really pushy, and how Kurt wouldn't be able to find him when he came back from the site. This was a disaster.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: So, I know I've been rushing to get this story out, mostly because the idea is starting to fade from my head, so I think I might go back after I finish it and rewrite some chapters, add details, and make things make more sense in some spots. This chapter hopefully will clear up some things from the last one. Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites! Enjoy. : )**

Chapter 4

Blaine sat in his cell at the juvenile detention center, unable to believe this. His parents were going to be here soon to talk to him, since his dad would be representing him in court, but other than that he hadn't heard from anyone, especially Kurt. He was really worried that Kurt got lost trying to find Blaine's house again, or that he couldn't find where Blaine was.

A few minutes passed and then an officer came and escorted Blaine to a room with a table and a few chairs. His parents were sitting at one side, his mom's eyes weepy and his dad's serious. What kind of evidence did those people have to prove him guilty? There couldn't be any.

The officer left him to be with his parents, and he sat down. "Blaine, did you do this?" Mr. Anderson asked seriously.

"No! I didn't do it!" Blaine started yelling. Mr. Anderson signaled his son with his hand to settle down.

"Then how do you know so much about this? You knew the details. They found your hair, your finger prints on the scene. They even have a video of you talking to yourself at the scene," Mr. Anderson said.

"I met Kurt's spirit," Blaine said. "His spirit has been telling me all of these things, and that's who I was talking to at the site. I'd been there with him."

Mr. Anderson had never really believed in Blaine's ability. Mrs. Anderson did, but Mr. Anderson always thought that Blaine just had a huge imagination, and found information about old relatives through stories from family members. Even if he could see spirits, it wasn't the kind of publicity Mr. Anderson would want on the family name.

"Why did you follow this spirit?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"He needed help. He was murdered and asked for my help. How could I say no?" Blaine said, rubbing his hands together.

"Blaine, saying that you can see spirits isn't going to be enough," Mr. Anderson said.

"But you guys can vouch for me that I was home when it happened," Blaine said.

"No, we can't," Mr. Anderson said. "Me and your mother were at that Gala that night, remember? We didn't get home till the wee hours of the morning. Even if we had been home, an alibi from family members is usually not taken very seriously."

"What should we do?" Blaine asked, staring at his hands. Mr. Anderson got up and put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.

"We'll do what we have to. We have a few months before the case, so I have time to find evidence of you being home. There's also enough time for them to try and find the people you said did it. Just stay strong and don't answer any questions," Mr. Anderson said calmly. "We have to go now Son. Be strong."

"Ok," Blaine said. He'd only been in here less than a week and he hated it. He couldn't imagine being in here for a few more months. It made his head ache.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson left their son in the detention center and Blaine was taken back to his cell. He sat on his bed, head in his hands, and stared at the wall. It'd be better if he could read a book or something. They had a library, but it was full of books he'd already read.

"Thank God I found you!" Kurt exclaimed, coming through the wall. Blaine looked up at him, his eyes glowing.

"Kurt! I can't believe it," Blaine said, standing up and smiling. "How'd you find me?"

"Well, first I went to your house, but you weren't there, so I followed your parents around until they came here," Kurt said simply, sitting down on the shelf in the room. "So, they think you did it?"

"Yea," Blaine said, talking really quiet so people wouldn't think he was crazy.

"I didn't think that would happen… Otherwise, I wouldn't have even gotten you involved," Kurt admitted, rubbing his shoulder. Blaine sighed.

"Well, it's ok. It happened so there's no use looking back and saying what you should have done," Blaine said, although he was wishing he hadn't agreed to help Kurt or just kept driving when he saw him on the side of the road.

"It's not like there can be much evidence against you," Kurt said quietly. "Right?"

"They have my hair and fingerprints at the site. A video and recording of me talking to you at the scene, which apparently is something murderers often do, and I have no one to vouch for my alibi," Blaine said hopelessly. "I don't know what we're going to do."

"But if they find the people who actually did it, then they'll have to try them too right?" Kurt asked. Blaine shrugged.

"I don't know Kurt," Blaine confessed, leaning back on his bed. "All I know is that I'm exhausted and that I don't want to think anymore."

"Then don't think," Kurt said simply.

* * *

><p>"Chief, I looked into this family that the Anderson boy described. Turns out there is a family that is similar to his description, but they all had alibis for where they'd been that night. As for trying to receive the security tapes from Panera Bread that night, it turns out that they'd already deleted it since nothing had seemed out of the ordinary," one of the officers rattled off. Chief Roberts nodded, thanking the officer for his services and dismissed him.<p>

He hated everything about this case. Pouring over the pictures from the scene night after night in search of some sort of evidence was playing a major toll on him. He had a son the same age as that Hummel kid had been. He couldn't blame Burt Hummel for being at the station every day, demanding answers and wanting to know why they haven't caught anyone yet. That led to the hasty arrest of Blaine Anderson.

Chief Roberts didn't believe Anderson did the crime. He'd seen the boy when he was brought down to the station, and he could just tell by the look on his face that he had to be innocent. The officers who did arrest him explained how they'd heard and seen him at the scene when they'd been watching the monitors and immediately left to the Anderson home, even though they'd only called that morning to check in on him.

The police chief pressed the video file from the interview with Anderson, to rewatch. This time, he wasn't listening so much to what he was saying, but to how he looked.

"_Could you start please by stating your name?" the officer on the other end of the camera asked._

"_Blaine Anderson," said the boy, his eyes staring down at the table and his hands obviously shaking._

"_Mr. Anderson, will you start by telling us how you knew about where the scene of the murder was and the details of said murder?" _

Roberts watched Blaine closely, noticing how his eyes shifted while he hesitated. That was a sign of guilt. He was definitely hiding something. If he wasn't, he would have answered right away. Maybe he didn't kill the boy, but he could've been trying to cover up for someone.

"_I'd heard about where the spot was from some friends of mine… The details I knew were more of educated guesses," Blaine mumbled into the table. _

"_You'd told Mr. Hummel that you knew these for fact," the officer said with edge to his voice. Blaine just stared at the table. _

"_I thought I did," Blaine said. _

"_What do you mean by that?"_

"_I plea the fifth," he finally said. "I'm not answering anymore questions."_

Officer Roberts pulled out the information that Mr. Hummel had given them, which he'd received from Blaine. The way he'd described four people, who do in fact live in town was what bothered him. Blaine wasn't from Lima, so how would he know about four people from the area? He didn't give names, like he'd pulled them from the phonebook or anything. He gave actual descriptions. The officer glanced at the clock's green numbers. 1:32. He needed to get home and come back to this tomorrow. Maybe after a good night's rest, everything would become clear.


	6. Chapter 56

**Author's Note: I'm not an actual lawyer/judge/prosecutor/etc, so I'm just making the court case up in a way that's easier for me to write and that gets the information I need to get across, across. Ok, so yea, I hope you guys like it. This was originally two separate chapters, but they're both pretty short so I put them together. Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites! They make my heart do a little dance. Enjoy. : ) And sorry for such a long wait!**

Chapter 5/6

"Ready Blaine?" Mr. Anderson asked as they walked to the court house. Even though Blaine was under trial for the brutal murder of Kurt Hummel, he was still a minor, so his parents were allowed to walk him to the courthouse instead of him having a police escort.

"Dad, am I supposed to tell them about… my gift?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Just answer all of their questions truthfully," Mr. Anderson said with something strange in his voice. Blaine stared at his dad, trying to figure out what was going on exactly.

"What did you find in my defense?" Blaine questioned, stopping where he was standing on the courthouse steps so that his father would have to answer him. Mr. Anderson sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, and prepared himself.

"There was no evidence disproving you being there. Since you visited the site, they have the dirt from the area on your shoes and on your car tires. They found your fingerprints and your hair at the scene. You have no real alibi, and… they haven't found anyone else that it could've been. Karofsky had an alibi, and so did those four people you kept going on about," Mr. Anderson said almost harshly.

"So… what are we going to do?" Blaine asked, fear threading itself through his voice. All he did was try and help Kurt out. Ok, he might have had ulterior motives (kissing ghosts is fun) but still, he didn't think he'd get framed with murder over it.

"Don't worry. Let me do my job," Mr. Anderson answered in a tone that only made Blaine more worried. The three of them walked into the courtroom and sat down on their side of the room. On the other side sat the prosecution and Kurt, who was floating next to him. Blaine smiled slightly, but was too focused on the fact that he could end up in prison for life to be too happy.

Everyone in the court room rose for the judge and then was seated and the trial began. "In the count of the state of Ohio vs. Blaine Anderson, how does he plea?" the judge asked Mr. Anderson.

"Not guilty by reason of mental disability," Mr. Anderson said. Blaine's eyes grew wide. What? Blaine wasn't crazy! He looked over at Kurt who was making a similar face. They both knew Blaine wasn't crazy and Blaine was going to have to prove it.

"Offense calls Dr. Rogers to the stand," the prosecution said. Dr. Rogers was the psychologist who Blaine had been talking to while he was in the Juvenile detention center. Blaine had no idea that he'd be called to the stand.

"So, Dr. you had the job of examining the mental state of Mr. Anderson, correct?" the prosecution asked after the doctor had been sworn in.

"That is correct," he answered.

"How would you describe Mr. Anderson, exactly?"

"He was very calm mostly. Not very much of a talker," he said simply.

"What did you discuss?"

"His life at home, his friends. Normal things. We only talked about the murder once or twice, but it seemed to bother him so it wasn't brought up much," Dr. Rogers said.

"Would you say it bothered him because of guilt or because of it being the murder of someone he knew?"

"It's hard to say. He'd told me that he never really knew Kurt Hummel, so I couldn't see it being the latter," he answered.

"No further questions," the prosecution sat down and Mr. Anderson stood up.

"Did my son ever talk to you about things that you found to be showing signs of not having a total grip on reality?" Mr. Anderson asked.

"Well, he talked about seeing hallucinations a lot, of people. He told me that he spoke to spirits, like the one of Kurt Hummel," the doctor said, which started muttering in the court room until the people were silenced by the judge.

"Would you say that you believe he was seeing apparitions?" Mr. Anderson asked.

"I find it unlikely, but there is no way to know for sure," the doctor answered.

"Do you think that there is a way that he could be using these 'apparitions' as a way to reconcile with things he may have done that he couldn't control?"

"It's a possibility," the doctor admitted, looking over at Blaine.

"No further questions."

"Whose side are you on?" Blaine asked his dad quietly when he sat down next to him.

"Yours, trust me," Mr. Anderson said to this son. The thing was, Blaine didn't trust him. He knew that his dad would be more concerned about how he looked in the eyes of the public than Blaine's well being. If everyone thought Blaine was crazy rather than thinking he had either killed someone on purpose or could see ghosts, then there would be no negative consequences to his family.

"Your Honor," Blaine said, standing up. "May I please approach the bench?"

"Yes you may," the judge said warily. Blaine walked over to the judge and took a deep breath.

"I'd like to be assigned a new lawyer. I believe that I'm not being defended because of other interests of my lawyer," Blaine said seriously. He could hear Kurt doing a little victory dance behind him.

"Very well. We'll adjourn for today and tomorrow you will be assigned a new lawyer by the state. All that was said today still does stay on the record with the jury though," the judge said. "Court adjourned."

Blaine sat in the meeting room, waiting on his new lawyer. They'd only been given three days to get Blaine ready for testimony and for the new lawyer to figure out what their defense would be. So, to say the least, Blaine was nervous. He didn't even know what kind of person he'd be assigned or anything. All he knew was that the guy was running late and they didn't have much time to begin with.

"Calm down. I'm sure it'll be fine," Kurt sighed. Blaine didn't even trust Kurt's motives anymore. He had a feeling Kurt was only saying things would be fine because he knew if they weren't that Blaine wouldn't speak to him again. Just as Blaine was about to start freaking out on Kurt, a middle aged man in a nice looking suit came in.

"Alan Shore, you must be Blaine Anderson?" the man asked, putting his briefcase down on the table.

"Uh yea. Hi. Are you my lawyer?" Blaine asked, looking at the strange looking gentleman.

"That would be me. So, Blaine, let's get to business shall we? We don't have much time, since your judge is pretty much a prick," Mr. Shore said, pulling out a notepad from his suitcase. Blaine gave a chuckle to the joke but stared down at the table. "So, you're charged with the brutal murder of a teenager? That's not good. I guess the first question would be, did you do it?"

"No, I didn't do it," Blaine said, outrage filling his voice. Alan put his hands up defensively.

"Whoa, ok, just checking. The fact that you're innocent makes my job a little easier, but not by much judging off the evidence they have piled up against you and your father's lovely defense for you. Pure poetry," Mr. Shore said sarcastically. "So, what is with this spirits thing?"

"It's a gift I've had since I was little. I can see spirits, like the kid from Sixth Sense. I saw the spirit of Kurt Hummel on my way to school and I tried to help him out since he looked really lost," Blaine said.

"Had you seen him before you saw him as a ghost?" Mr. Shore asked, unfazed by any of this.

"Once. He'd been at Dalton, my school, as a spy for his glee club. I only saw him in a crowd of kids though, at one of our impromptu performances," Blaine said evenly, not even looking at Kurt who was trying to get his attention, probably to apologize.

"Blaine, I know this might hurt your feelings, but there isn't really a way for me to prove that you see these things, or that they aren't all in your head," Alan said, sounding sympathetic.

"There's a woman behind you," Blaine said, looking up at Mr. Shore. "She's been behind you since you came in. Brown hair, green eyes. Kind of tall… She was your wife; I'm guessing by the way she looks at you. She's wearing a light green dress with flowers on it. Usually they wear the clothes that they were buried in."

Mr. Shore stared at Blaine, for once in his life having nothing to say. "Is your wife dead Mr. Shore?" Blaine asked steadily.

"Yes," he answered, staring at Blaine.

"Do you believe me now?" Blaine asked, still holding himself together. Alan sighed.

"Most definitely," he said tenderly. "Blaine, I will do whatever I have to, in order to get you free. That means it's time to get to work."

It felt like a weight had been lifted from Blaine's chest. He had a lawyer who believed him and was going to actually help him! Now the tricky part would be showing to a jury that he can see spirits.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note (IMPORTANT UPDATE): Hi everyone! So, I know there are quite a few people who really like this story and want to see what happens with it, but unfortunately, right now, my brain is nowhere near this story. I'm super sorry, but I can pretty much promise that it's going to be a long time until I come back to this. Mostly, I'm doing this because I know if I force myself to write another chapter, it won't be as good as if I wait until I'm reinspired to work on this story. That being said, you guys are super awesome and I hope that you still do wait for a new chapter (I also hope that you weren't disappointed to see that this isn't a new chapter), but I just can't focus on this story right now. I know those of you who are writers will definitely understand what I'm saying. <strong>

** I can pretty much promise that sometime this year, this story will be finished, but that probably won't be for months. I am so so sorry! I hope that this doesn't get anybody too upset and that everyone still sticks around. ^-^ I have another story that I'm working on and that will probably be starting either tonight or tomorrow, so if you want to read that, that'd be awesome. Once again, I'm so sorry! I promise that I will come back to this eventually. Maybe when October rolls around I'll be more inspired. ^-^**

**Your Extremely Sorry Writer**

**-Tsay Crescent **


	7. author note

**Author's Note (IMPORTANT UPDATE): Hi everyone! So, I know there are quite a few people who really like this story and want to see what happens with it, but unfortunately, right now, my brain is nowhere near this story. I'm super sorry, but I can pretty much promise that it's going to be a long time until I come back to this. Mostly, I'm doing this because I know if I force myself to write another chapter, it won't be as good as if I wait until I'm reinspired to work on this story. That being said, you guys are super awesome and I hope that you still do wait for a new chapter (I also hope that you weren't disappointed to see that this isn't a new chapter), but I just can't focus on this story right now. I know those of you who are writers will definitely understand what I'm saying. **

** I can pretty much promise that sometime this year, this story will be finished, but that probably won't be for months. I am so so sorry! I hope that this doesn't get anybody too upset and that everyone still sticks around. ^-^ I have another story that I'm working on and that will probably be starting either tonight or tomorrow, so if you want to read that, that'd be awesome. Once again, I'm so sorry! I promise that I will come back to this eventually. Maybe when October rolls around I'll be more inspired. ^-^**

**Your Extremely Sorry Writer**

**-Tsay Crescent **


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